


Taxi

by holtzbabe



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, You decide!, partially written on a plane like some of my best fics, possibly subconsciously inspired by Dreamshaper and maschinenmensch, taxi driver au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:57:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzbabe/pseuds/holtzbabe
Summary: Holtz is driving aimlessly, singing along to 80s pop on the radio, and keeping her eyes out for what she’s looking for—and then she sees it.A woman, wearing a soft pink sweater and mom jeans and carrying a brown briefcase, is standing on the sidewalk with her arm out.Holtz screeches to a stop in front of her and unlocks the doors. “Hey,” she says cheerfully. “Where to?”





	Taxi

**Author's Note:**

> Last month I flew home for Christmas and got this idea when I was in a taxi being driven to the airport at 4:00am, and then I promptly wrote 1,400 words of it on the plane. I wasn't sure if I was gonna finish it, but I did! Look at me go!
> 
> Side note: the whole time I was writing this I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that someone else in the fandom had written a cab-driver AU already, and as I was editing this yesterday I went hunting on AO3 and sure enough, the ever-talented Dreamshaper and maschinenmensch wrote [Cab Ride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683621/chapters/19906876) back in 2016! I gave it a re-read today to make sure I hadn't like, accidentally done a word-for-word retelling, and I remembered not only the plot of it (which I'd definitely forgotten), but also how good it was! Give it a read! :) And know that any similarities between the two, besides the whole AU concept, just mean that it resonated with me enough to linger around in my subconscious for two years ;)

Holtz is driving aimlessly, singing along to 80s pop on the radio, and keeping her eyes out for what she’s looking for—and then she sees it.

A woman, wearing a soft pink sweater and mom jeans and carrying a brown briefcase, is standing on the sidewalk with her arm out.

Holtz screeches to a stop in front of her and unlocks the doors, waiting to see if the woman will choose the front seat or the back seat.

She chooses the back, which is exactly what Holtz would’ve expected just looking at her.

“Hey,” she says cheerfully. “Where to?”

The woman, distracted on her phone, gives her an address, and Holtz hits the gas.

She continues to bop her head to the music, coming in with the lyrics every now and again. Her passenger isn’t a Talker—she can already tell. Between sitting in the back and the way she hasn’t taken her eyes off her phone since she slid inside the cab, it’s a no-brainer.

“I know this song,” the woman says suddenly. “DeBarge, right?”

Holtz looks in her rear-view mirror. “Is it by DeBarge? I thought it was Devo.”

“Oh. I don’t know,” the woman says. She checks her phone again and bites her lip, then lets out an upset sigh.

Holtz doesn’t ask.

A minute of silence passes.

“I just had the worst date ever,” the woman says with another sigh.

Holtz looks back in the rear-view. Maybe she pegged this woman wrong as a Non-Talker. She’s been surprised before—not often, but sometimes.

“You wanna talk about it?” Holtz hazards. “Cabbies are notoriously good listeners.” She pauses as she puts her turn signal on. “Also, I love a good bad-date story.”

The woman laughs lightly. “It’s not much of a story. I was already on the fence about this guy—he wasn’t coming across the greatest over text—but then he stood me up.”

_He_. She’s straight—but Holtz already knew that. Of course she is. She’s steeped in heterosexuality.

Holtz makes a noise of disgust. “Now who would stand up a beautiful woman such as yourself?”

The woman makes a noncommittal noise with a wave of her hand. “I keep checking my phone to see if he’s going to text with an excuse, but there’s been nothing. I waited at the restaurant for two hours. I think that’s long enough.”

“Oof.”

“Too long?”

“Ehh…”

The woman sighs again. “Oh well. It’s probably for the best.”

“Sounds like it.”

“I’ve had the worst luck dating. Maybe it’s just me.”

“Nah, it’s not you.”

The woman laughs. “You don’t even know me.”

“Alright, fair point,” Holtz allows. “But I also know that men are inherently awful, so…”

“Honestly.”

“Women are a lot easier to date,” Holtz says.

“Is that your grand advice? Date women instead?”

“I’m just sayin’. Take it or leave it.”

The woman laughs again. “Noted. Is that what you do, then?”

Holtz holds back a smile and glances in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Yes,” the woman says confidently.

Holtz clicks her tongue and finger-guns her.

“I actually already knew that,” the woman says.

Holtz blinks. “What, that I’m a raging lesbian? I’m glad I give off that aura even to complete strangers.”

“Well, I mean, I won’t deny that—but I actually meant that I already knew that dating women is easier.”

Holtz holds her gaze in the mirror for a few curious seconds, not even trying to hide her surprise. Both her passenger profiling _and_ her gaydar foiled in one trip? Who _is_ this woman?

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Erin.”

“Nice to meet you, Erin. I’m Holtz.”

“That’s an interesting name.”

“I’m an interesting person.”

“Oh, are you going to flirt with me now?”

Holtz’s mouth twists. “I’d love to, buuuttttt…” She pulls to a stop in front of an apartment building. “I believe you have reached your destination.”

“Shoot,” Erin says, fumbling for her purse. “I didn’t even notice we were getting close.”

“Wow, _that’s_ not something I usually hear,” Holtz says, voice thick with innuendo, knowing full well that this is completely unprofessional and inappropriate.

Erin snorts and giggles all at once, her chest reddening as she produces a credit card.

While Holtz waits for her to pay, she stretches to open the glove compartment and pulls out a business card from the stack she has stashed there. She flips it between her fingers and holds it back to Erin.

Erin takes the card and tilts her head.

“Next time you have a bad date and need a taxi, who you gonna call?” Holtz holds her thumb and pinkie to her head like a phone.

“You?” Erin guesses.

“I’d like it if you did,” Holtz says. “I mean, shit, look at the size of that _tip_.”

Erin laughs lightly. “Thank you, Holtz.” She grabs her purse and briefcase and opens the back door. “Have a good night.”

Holtz salutes her and watches to ensure that she makes it inside the building before she pulls back into traffic.

 

The next week, Holtz’s cell phone rings.

“This is Holtz,” she answers.

“Um, hi, this is—um, you drove me last week, I was the one with the pink—”

“Erin?”

“Oh. You remember me. Okay.”

“Of course I remember you. You were my favourite passenger all week. Plus, I gave you my card, so who else would be phoning my cell?”

“Well, I assumed you give lots of people your card.”

“Nope,” Holtz says, popping the P. “So where are you? I assume you need a pickup? Of the ride variety, not the line variety.”

“Huh?”

“Or _are_ you looking for a pickup line?”

“Can you just come here if you’re not busy?” Erin says, sounding exasperated and a little upset.

Holtz wonders if she’s on another bad date—but it’s the middle of the day on a Wednesday, so maybe not. Either way, she stops joking around. “Sure, of course. Where are you?”

 

When Holtz pulls into Columbia University shortly later, she spots Erin right away. She’s dressed head-to-toe in tweed and clutching a box filled with office items and a plant.

“I didn’t get fired,” she says before she’s even shut the door behind her. Back seat—box beside her.

“Okay,” Holtz says.

“I _didn’t_. I know it looks like I did, with the old plant-in-a-box.”

“Right. You could be taking it to get some air.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Erin says. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not, not at all. Where are we headed?”

“Same as last time,” Erin says. “14—”

“It’s okay, I remember the place.”

“That’s a little creepy.”

“I know this city very well,” Holtz says.

“Okay, fine.” Erin slumps back in her seat, then sits forward again. “I’m not going home in the middle of the day because I was fired.”

“Never said you were.”

“I’m going home for lunch.”

“That’s gr—”

“But I won’t be going back to work afterwards, so I won’t need another ride. Not because I got fired. But because…”

“You’re working from home for the rest of the day?”

“Yes, yes.” Erin slumps back again. “That’s exactly it.”

“Good on ya. I wish I could work from home.”

“How would that even work?”

Holtz grins in the mirror. “Self-driving cars.”

“If the car is doing all of the work, why would you get paid for it?”

“Car supervision and scheduling.”

“Of course.”

“You sound skeptical.”

“Well, I mean…”

“Fine. Go ahead, clip my wings,” Holtz teases.

Erin doesn’t respond. She’s chewing on her lip.

“You know,” Holtz says carefully. “I know you didn’t get fired, but if you _had_ , I’d tell you how sorry I am and how much that sucks. Would suck. If you had.”

“Thanks,” Erin mumbles.

They don’t say anything for the rest of the drive.

Erin still tips very well.

 

Holtz’s phone rings again with the same number that evening. It’s almost midnight.

“This is Holtz.”

“Heyyyyyy, Holtz.” Erin’s voice is loud, too loud. Music pounds in the background.

Holtz holds her phone away from her ear. “Hey.”

“You are _so_ great. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming to get me.”

“Do you…need me to come get you?”

“Yessssss,” Erin trills.

“Where are you?”

“The club.” Erin guffaws loudly. “I’m in the club. That’s so funny. Isn’t that so funny?”

“What…club?”

“Oh, _fuck_.”

“Do you not know?”

“I just remembered something.”

“…What is it?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Okay.” Holtz sighs and runs her hand through her hair. “Are there any landmarks?”

“Like the Eiffel Tower?”

“Yeah, Erin, like the Eiffel Tower.”

“I can’t see the Eiffel Tower, no.”

“What about something _like_ that? Something to tell me where you are?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

There’s silence.

“Erin?”

“I’m hot.”

“Uhh…”

“I’m going to go outside. It’s too hot.”

“That’s a good idea. While you’re outside, maybe you can look for landmarks?”

“Like the Eiffel Tower?”

“Yep. Like the Eiffel Tower. Not the actual Eiffel Tower, though. Unless you’re at a club in Paris?”

“I know what they call the Eiffel Tower in French,” Erin whispers loudly, like she’s telling a secret. “It’s the _Arc de Triomphe_.”

“Nope, that’s…nope. Different landmark.”

Erin whines. “It’s cold.”

“Are you outside?”

“Yes.”

“What do you see? Do you see any signs?”

“Yesssssss.”

“Yes? Okay. Awesome. What does the sign say?”

“It’s blue.”

“Blue?”

“Yeah. It’s blue. And pink.”

“Is it the sign for the club?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it on the front of the building you just came out of?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Stay right there, Erin. I think I know where you are.”

 

Holtz knows the city really well.

She’s also really gay.

Those two skills have never come in as handy as they do tonight.

She drives to the only popular club she knows with a blue and pink sign, which happens to be a gay club, and one she’s frequented many times over the years.

She pulls up to the curb in front of it just in time to watch Erin throw up onto the sidewalk.

“Ooh boy,” she mutters to herself as she shifts the car into park and turns it off. She’s technically in a no-parking zone, but they’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

“That’s right, get it all out,” she says as she rounds the car. “You’re not setting foot in my cab until you’ve emptied most of your stomach.”

Erin’s head snaps up and her eyes wheel drunkenly before landing on Holtz.

“Hey, it’s you!”

“Yep, you…called me,” Holtz says. “How, uh, are you?”

“Not much,” Erin says loudly. Then something crosses her face and she bends and heaves again.

Holtz leans against the car and folds her arms, watching her with fascination. She’s never been one to feel nauseated herself watching other people yak, and there’s something strangely captivating about watching Erin come undone like this.

She admittedly doesn’t know the woman very well, but this kind of behavior is not one she would’ve expected coming from her. She seemed a little too strung-out.

So in that respect, maybe this kind of behavior _was_ to be expected.

Especially given the fact that she was definitively undeniably fired earlier in the day.

Holtz turns and opens the passenger seat door, bending to open the glove compartment and pull an unopened bottle of water from it. She straightens back up and shuts the door.

“Hey,” she says, getting Erin’s attention. “Here.”

She gently tosses the bottle, which she regrets about 0.2 seconds after it leaves her hands.

Erin yelps and windmills her arms as if that’s the way to catch a flying object that’s coming at you. The bottle bounces off her torso and falls to the pavement, denting the plastic but not breaking it.

Erin stares at her feet. “Look. Somebody dropped their water.”

“Yep. That was…me.”

“It’s full.”

“Yep. It’s new.”

Erin squats to pick up the bottle, but topples backwards onto her ass. She giggles.

Holtz peels herself off the car and comes over, crouching in front of Erin. “You okay?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’re not wearing a coat.”

“It’s summer.”

“It’s September.”

“No it’s not,” Erin says firmly.

Holtz eyes her, unsure how to respond to that. She picks up the water and presses it into Erin’s hands. “Here. Drink this.”

Erin struggles with the cap before Holtz reaches over to loosen it for her.

Erin chugs back half the bottle, then looks at it with amazement.

“Where did you _find_ this?”

“Um. It was in the car, actually.”

“What car?”

“My car.”

“You have a car?”

Holtz hooks her thumb behind her. “Yes, and I brought it here to take you home.”

“I don’t have to go home.”

“Well, no…you _don’t…_ but maybe you should?”

“You know why?” Erin beckons her closer, then grabs the silk scarf knotted around Holtz’s neck to pull her forward.

Holtz wobbles in her unsteady crouch and she reaches her hand out to the pavement to stabilize herself.

“I don’t have to go home because I don’t have a job anymoooore,” Erin trills.

Holtz is close enough that she gets hit with the full punch of Erin’s breath, which smells like she’s consumed every spirit known to man. The scent alone is enough to get Holtz drunk.

“Maybe you should still go home,” Holtz suggests. She gently loosens Erin’s grip on her scarf and extracts herself, then stands.

“That’s right!” Erin throws her arms open. “I just got FIRED! I WAS FIRED!”

“Okay. Alright. Come on.” Holtz extends a hand. “Let’s get you home.”

“I WAS FIRED TODAY. I WAS FIIIIIRED.”

“You gotta stop shouting.”

Holtz helps Erin to her feet and then immediately catches her when she stumbles and falls.

“A ghost tripped me,” Erin mumbles.

“Uh huh,” Holtz says, supporting Erin’s full weight as she throws open the rear door of the cab.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“Really? Where do you live?”

“Your home. Not my home.” Holtz helps Erin with the seatbelt after several unsuccessful attempts to fit it in the buckle herself. She reaches past her and grabs the little trash can she has in the back seat. “This is for you. Usually I don’t let people vomit in it, but I’m gonna make a special exception for you. If you’re going to hurl, please do it in the can. Not on the seats or floor. Got it?”

“There’s garbage in here,” Erin says, peering into the bucket.

“Yeah. It’s a garbage can.”

Holtz shuts the door on her and circles around to the driver’s side. She slides into her seat and fixes her gaze in the rear-view mirror.

“Alright,” she mutters as she turns her key in the ignition. “Lezzgo.”

 

Holtz is driving around when her phone rings.

At this point, she recognizes the number.

“Hello, Erin,” she says.

“H—Holtz?”

“You got her.”

“I…um.” Erin’s voice is raspy, pained. “What…I don’t…did you drive me home last night?”

Holtz glances at her phone in its dashboard holster. “Yes. You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember…getting home. Or seeing you? But this was…the last number in my call history, and I—oh _god._ ”

There’s a muffled noise and then the sound of retching. Holtz whistles to cover up the sound.

“I’m so sorry,” Erin says after a moment. “I’m so sorry. Oh my god.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Holtz says. “We all have those nights.”

“I don’t,” Erin says immediately. “That’s not me.”

Holtz shrugs even though Erin can’t see it. “You don’t need to defend yourself. You got fired. You’re allowed to go get plastered.”

“I didn’t get fired,” Erin says defensively.

Holtz makes a noise. “That’s not what you were yelling outside the club last night.”

Silence. “Oh god,” Erin groans. “I’m so humiliated. I’m humiliated and I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover and my head feels like it’s going to split open and _god_. I’m so sorry.”

“Mm. You need a Tallywacker.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“A Tallywacker. From the Stick and Stone? The only hangover cure that I swear by.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Stick and Stone? Have you never been? It’s this little hole-in-the-wall breakfast joint. They have this breakfast burrito called the Tallywacker. A little crude, yes, but holy hell, it’s good. 100% guaranteed to rid you of your hangover.”

“I’m not really a…breakfast person.”

“Pfft. You _say_ that, but you’ve never tried a Tallywacker.”

“Please stop saying that word.”

“Tallywacker?”

“Ugh.”

“Well, if your head hurts as much as you say it does, I’d really give it a shot. You won’t regret it.”

“Where did you say this was?”

“The Stick and Stone. I can take you, if you want. Just say the word.”

A pause. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll go.”

“Sweet. I’m pretty close. I can be there in ten.”

“Uhhhhhhh…”

“Twenty?”

“I should really shower.”

“Are you still in bed?”

“…Maybe.”

“Do you usually call your cab drivers from your bed?”

“I’ll be ready in forty.”

Holtz snorts. “See you then.”

 

When Erin emerges from her apartment building, she looks decidedly haggard, sunglasses shielding her eyes. She slinks towards the taxi like it’s a walk of shame.

“Good morning,” Holtz says cheerfully as Erin slides into the back seat.

“No,” Erin says.

“Okay,” Holtz says.

Erin takes off her sunglasses and wrinkles her nose. “It stinks in here.”

Holtz gives her a look over her shoulder. “Well _sorry_ that I haven’t had time to get it cleaned since last night.”

Erin’s eyes go wide with fear. “Did I vomit in here?” She says this in a hushed voice.

“Nope,” Holtz says cheerfully, “you vomited at the club and brought the smell with you. That’s also why it smells like a liquor cabinet in here.”

Erin waves her face, which is turning red, and puts her sunglasses back on. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Then, in a smaller voice, “That’s not me.”

“I’m not judging,” Holtz says as she drives.

“So, um…you…took me home last night?”

“Mhm. You called me from the club but didn’t know where you were so I had to take a shot in the dark. I managed to track you down, though. Then I took you home.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I don’t even remember getting inside my apartment.”

“You wouldn’t. You were passed out.”

“What?”

“I had to practically carry you from the car inside.”

“ _Seriously?”_

“A-yup. And then up six flights of stairs.”

“You—you did that?”

“You were coherent enough to tell me your apartment number which was helpful.”

“Do you…usually bring passengers into their apartment buildings?”

Holtz shrugs. “Sometimes. I wouldn’t have left you passed out on the steps of your building. Obviously. And leave you to get assaulted or killed? Yeah, no.”

“But…up the _stairs?”_

“Yeah, alright, I wouldn’t have done that for anyone. I just…wanted to make sure you made it home safely. It was kinda crossing a line. I know. Sorry.”

“No, I…thank you.”

“You invited me to come inside your apartment. Do you remember that?”

Erin pales in the mirror. “No. I did?”

“You were very forward about it. You were also _very_ drunk.”

“Shit. I…”

“ _Obviously_ I didn’t come inside. That would be way creepy. I made sure you made it inside and then I left. I think by the time you had the door unlocked, you had already forgotten that I was there.”

Erin groans. “I’m so sorry, Holtz.”

Holtz meets her eyes. “Hey. It’s okay. I get it, alright? You don’t need to apologize. I see a lot in this job. I just hope I didn’t overstep at all. I feel bad.”

“No, I’m…thank you. I’m really glad that I called you. Last night could’ve gone very horribly if I hadn’t.”

“Yeeeaaah. Possibly.”

They’re quiet. Holtz glances in the mirror. Erin is chewing on her lip.

The rest of the drive is silent.

Holtz pulls into the parking lot of their destination. “Alright, this is it. The door is down in that alley.”

Erin eyes the dark alley. “Uhh…”

“Okay, I get you. It’s a little sketch. But I swear, it’s a hidden gem.”

Erin rubs her arm. “Right. I, uh…”

“Do you want me to walk you over to the door?”

“Maybe,” Erin mumbles.

“Gotchu.” Holtz turns off the car and undoes her seatbelt. “Come on.”

The alley is a lot less creepy close-up. She leads Erin to the door.

“What is it I’m supposed to order, again?”

“You can get whatever you want,” Holtz says. “But if you’re serious about shaking off that hangover, then the Tallywacker all the way. If not, every single thing on their menu is incredible.” Her stomach gurgles loudly and she gestures at it. “See? Even thinking about the Stick and Stone has got me salivating. You’re in for a real delight. I’m jealous.”

Erin is still chewing on her lip. “You could join me,” she blurts.

Holtz raises an eyebrow.

Erin turns red. “I mean—sorry, I know you’re on the job, and you have to get back to—”

“Yes.”

Erin blinks. “Yes?”

Holtz grabs the door to the restaurant and tugs it open. “I will _never_ say no to the Stick and Stone.”

It’s busy inside but not full, and they get a table right away. Erin orders a black coffee before Holtz can warn her that the coffee here is inedible.

Erin figures it out pretty quickly, but she still chokes down half a mug of it, grimacing, while glancing over her menu.

Holtz orders the #13 Special, and Erin bashfully orders the Tallywacker.

“Home fries?” their server asks with a nasal whine.

Holtz nods at Erin.

“Um, yes, please,” Erin says as she hands her menu to the server.

Erin gags on another mouthful of coffee as Holtz folds her hands under her chin and watches her.

“What?” she asks self-consciously.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Holtz asks.

“About what?”

“Getting fired and going to get shit-faced at a gay club last night.”

Erin’s cheeks redden. “It was a gay club? I blame you for that.”

Holtz frowns in confusion. “I didn’t drive you there.”

“No, I know, I just meant…with that conversation we had the other day…never mind.”

“Ah, I understand. You were hurting and sought solace in the arms of a lady lover.” Holtz winks.

“I didn’t seek solace in the arms of anyone,” Erin grumbles. “Except you.”

Holtz’s eyebrows shoots to the ceiling.

“Not like _that,”_ Erin says. “I just meant that I _called_ you.”

“Uh huhhh.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m flattered, Erin.”

“But you have a girlfriend, I know.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. There was actually a full stop after that. I’m flattered. Period.”

“But I blew it by embarrassing myself in front of you last night.”

“Nope.”

“But I puked in your cab.”

“Nope. You puked on the sidewalk.”

Erin’s face twists. “Please. Don’t talk about puking.”

“You started it.”

Erin sighs. “So what’s the but?”

“There’s no but.”

“There’s always a but. ‘You’re nice, _but_ not wife material.’”

“Who said that to you?”

“‘You were up for tenure, _but_ you’re fired.’”

“Ouch.”

Erin downs the rest of her coffee and stares pointedly in the other direction, sulking.

“You know, this is really shitty,” Holtz says.

“Thanks, Holtz, I did know that, actually.”

“Buuuuuut…”

“There’s the but.”

“But it already happened.”

Erin looks at her.

“You were fired,” Holtz clarifies. “That happened. And now it’s over. Now you get to start a new job.”

“This isn’t making me feel any better.”

“Did getting mind-numbingly drunk make you feel any better?” Holtz doesn’t ask this judgmentally, just earnestly, honestly wondering.

Erin hangs her head. “No.”

“Well, good news. Here comes something that will.”

Erin follows her gaze to their server, who is already approaching with their food. “That was fast.”

Holtz tucks a napkin down the front of her shirt as her plate is set in front of her. Erin unwraps her fork and knife.

“You don’t need those,” Holtz says. “Use your hands.”

“It looks messy.”

“Oh, 100%. That’s the beauty of a Tallywacker.”

Erin exhales and follows suit with her napkin, then awkwardly picks up her burrito. Holtz waits for her to take her first bite.

“Oh. Oh my.” Erin’s mouth is full. “Oh shit. That’s good.”

Holtz grins and picks up her breakfast sandwich, her fingers fitting easily into the ridges of the waffles like they’re bowling ball holes. She takes a huge bite and maple syrup creeps down her arm, soon joined by runny egg yolk.

They eat in companionable and contented silence, the only noises coming from them hungrily devouring their respective meals. Erin chows down like she hasn’t eaten in weeks.

Holtz pops the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth and licks her fingers one by one. Erin pauses, her mostly-eaten Tallywacker hovering near her mouth as she watches.

“You good?” Holtz asks.

Erin clears her throat and resumes eating her burrito. “Yep,” she grunts.

Holtz snags a home fry off her plate. “Finder’s fee,” she explains.

Erin waves her hand. “Take as many as you want.”

Holtz takes a handful.

“Maybe not that many,” Erin says.

“Too late,” Holtz says, shoving them all in her mouth at once.

 

“I’ve got this,” Erin says when they’ve finished their meal. She starts digging through her purse, then looks up, eyes panicked. “My wallet isn’t in here.”

Holtz leans back in her chair with her hands clasped behind her head. “I was wondering when we’d get to that.”

Erin’s eyes widen. “Did you steal my wallet?”

Holtz starts laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Well you clearly already knew about it, and…and…”

“And the last thing I would do if I’d stolen your wallet would be to _see_ you again. Jeez.”

“Okay, so…so where is it?”

Holtz shrugs exaggeratedly.

“But I—I paid you last night, so what—”

Holtz raises an eyebrow.

Erin stares at her. “I _did_ pay you last night… _tell_ me I paid last night.”

Holtz shakes her head with a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep from laughing.

“Oh my god.” Erin’s hand goes to her mouth. “Oh my god. That’s _everything_. My ID, my credit card, my debit card, my MetroCard, my Columbia ID—”

“Well you won’t be needing _that_ anymore.”

Erin gives her a look. “Come on. Not now.”

Holtz pulls out her own wallet and slaps her credit card down on the table. “When was the last time you had it? You must’ve had it at the club, unless you flirted your way into free drinks all night.”

Erin’s brow creases. “You’re right. I did have it at the club.”

“Okay, cool. You had it at the club, and by the time we made it to your place, you didn’t have it. I already searched every inch of my cab last night, after I dropped you off, so you didn’t lose it on the drive. Conclusion: you either lost it _in_ the club, or you lost it in front of the club. Now, the only thing I saw you lose outside the club was the contents of your stomach, soooo—” Holtz pulls out her phone and taps on the keyboard for a few seconds, then hands it to Erin.

“What is—” Erin breaks off as she realizes that the phone is dialing. She holds it up to her ear quickly. “Oh, um, hello? My name is Erin Gilbert. I was at your, um, establishment last night, and now I seem to have misplaced my wallet. I was wondering if you have a, uh…lost and found bin, or something? Oh! You—oh, um, it’s brown leather, embossed with my initials, E.G., and—oh my gosh, seriously? That’s amazing!” She covers the phone. “They have it!”

Holtz gives her a thumbs up while she signs her name on the credit card receipt. Their server thanks them for coming in and Holtz returns her card to her wallet.

“—and I know you’re closed right now, but is there any chance that I’d be able to—oh, perfect! Thank you so much. Thank you. Okay. Yes, that’s perfect. Okay, see you soon. Thank you!”

She hangs up the phone and hands it back to Holtz.

“Well? Let’s go get your wallet back,” she says.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—you’ve done so much already, you don’t have to—”

“Erin, you still owe fare from last night and this morning,” Holtz deadpans.

Erin turns red. “Oh my god. Of course. I’m so sorry, I—”

“Kidding,” Holtz says with a grin. “I mean, I’ve already waived your charge from last night. I don’t even know what it was. Poof. Gone. And I got a fantastic meal outta this morning’s trip, so I’m thinkin’ that one’s waived too.”

Erin shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I said I’d pay for breakfast— _and_ my fare. I’ll pay you back.”

Holtz shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’m taking you either way. I’m too invested at this point.”

“In getting my wallet back?”

Holtz winks. “Something like that.”

 

She pulls up in front of the club and parks in the same illegal spot as last night. The club manager told Erin to phone again when she was outside so she could come let her in, so that’s what she does.

Soon, they’re standing in the quiet club, which looks very different when all the lights are on and there aren’t a hundred drunk bodies crammed on the dance floor.

The manager, Kim, retrieves Erin’s wallet and checks her ID to confirm her identity, then gives it to her.

“Thank you so much,” Erin gushes. “I would’ve been so screwed if it was lost.”

Kim smiles. “I’m glad you phoned—we usually give it 24 hours and then take them to the Station.”

“Well, if it wasn’t for Holtz here, I don’t think I would’ve noticed it was missing right away,” Erin says.

Kim turns her attention to Holtz and tilts her head as she looks her over. “Hey, I know you. It’s been a while since you’ve been around.” She looks at Erin. “Is this your girlfriend?”

“Not yet,” Holtz says before Erin can answer.

 

Outside the cab, Erin counts bills and hands Holtz a wad of cash.

“This is way more than you owe me,” Holtz says.

Erin shrugs. “Too bad.”

The corner of Holtz’s mouth ticks up as she pockets the money. “So, where to now?”

“Home,” Erin answers. “I’m still recovering from last night.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re _still_ hungover after that Tallywacker.”

“Amazingly, my headache is mostly gone,” Erin admits. “I think I just need some alone time though.”

“Right. Of course.” Holtz tries to not let her disappointment colour her tone.

Erin seems to catch it anyway. “Not that it hasn’t been fun hanging out with you, but I just…the last couple days have been a lot. I think I just need to process.”

“Say no more,” Holtz says.

 

They’re outside Erin’s apartment building. Erin, sitting in the passenger’s seat instead of the back, pays for her fare.

She doesn’t exit the cab.

“Need help getting upstairs again?” Holtz jokes.

Erin bites her lip like she’s considering it.

“I want to ask you out,” she announces.

Holtz quirks an eyebrow, a smile playing at her lips. “What’s stopping you?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Well. You got my number...”

Erin smiles and nods happily, biting her lip as she does so. “Yeah. I do.”

She opens the door and slides from the cab, then turns.

“Be sure to give me a call…if you need a cab.” Holtz winks.

Erin ducks her head with a smile. “I’ll make sure to do that. Thank you, Holtz.”

Holtz salutes. “See ya next time, Erin.”

Erin shuts the door and walks towards her building. Holtz watches her until she’s inside the front door, then she shifts the car into drive and pulls away from the curb.

She’s halfway down the block when her phone starts ringing.

A grin stretches across her face as she reaches out and answers the call.

“This is Holtz,” she says.

She already has her turn signal on.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Let's be friends](http://holtzin.tumblr.com)


End file.
